A New Project for a New Year

I have referenced her a couple of times in my blog, and I have been reading her site for 7 years now (thought it has gone through many changes). Her name is Sarah Brown and she has been an inspiration to me more times than I can count. I have based multiple writings on ideas that she has had, and I have tried to always give her credit (and I apologize if I ever failed to do so).

Sarah started this amazing things called Cringe. It started in New York and is, at its base, an open mic for relaying the best of old poems, journal entries, songs, and writings in general. And by "best" I mean "most horribly awkward and therefore funny." It has garnered much deserved attention and even takes place in England now. Next time I hit NY I'm bringing an old journal in hopes of shaking Sarah's hand and reading for everyone's pleasure.

In the meantime, since I cannot partake in the actual thing, I have decided to start a mini faux version on Cringe on my site. I'm not trying to make it big or get famous from this (as Sarah has done with her book coming out soon). This is more so for me and my close friends. But if you're new to this site and stumble upon this, please contribute.

So what I'm asking is that you e-mail me poems, letters you never sent, journal entries, songs, and anything you can find that you want to share. The point is to smile at our youthful indiscretion and now-comedic views that we once held so dearly.

So here are a few ground rules:

-You can ask to remain anonymous, or for your name to accompany your work. I will always respect your privacy.
-Please do not edit your work. You can take out names if you're worried about them reading it, but the more truthful to the original the better.
-There is to be no actual mockery of anyone's work. Laughter is the point, but not laughter at another's expense. Though this can be funny, these can still be painful/serious memories.
-Drawings/etc can be included.
-Things posted on the net are acceptable, but actual handwritten work can be more fun since chances are nobody has heard this before.
-A bit of setup is always appreciated. Year you wrote it and surrounding circumstances and the like.
-The older the better.
-Try to not "justify" the writing. Set it up and let it speak for itself.

And now, to show how serious I am about doing this, I will start with the first 50FIFTY Homage to Sarah Brown's Cringe:

I was 18 and it was 2001 and I was "dating" a girl for the first time. I put 'dating' in quotes because it was still up in the air at this time. I had, in a sense, stolen this girl from her boyfriend and was insanely caught up in my internal struggle to win her affections since she was obviously my one true love. Or so my 18-year-old heart thought.

We "broke up," and I put that in quotes because, how can you break up with someone if you're not dating in the first place?

I was so distraught that I wrote countless horrible poems in a little spiral-bound notebook. They became progressively more emo until it climaxed in a suicide-note style poem.

Two things to keep in mind: 1) I was listening to a lot of Eminem at this point in time, and 2) My dad found this and had a little "talk" with me.

Goodbye

How do I start this? Not with "hello"
For I know that's too happy to show
How I feel, how bout "hi", no no no
That's not real, doesn't go
What's the deal? I'll just screw it
And start with, "I feel like shit"
That'll hit 'em, stick with 'em and kick 'em
Out of their comfort zones
Cuz Grant wouldn't use that tone
And we know that he's not prone
To swear or to get real mad,
Grant is just never sad, then:
"This will make you real mad
But chance after chance I've had
To try and make myself glad.
And why does it never work?
I cry and I go berserk
I know that I've been a jerk
But I've tried to look at the perks
Of living and I can see none
I'm giving up, battle's done
I fought it off but it won."
I think I'll write my goodbyes.
This ink they'll read as they cry
Hearts sink, they ask, "Why'd he die?"
And now I will tell you bye.
"To my parents I loved you much
You cared which was proved by such
Warm actions, looks, even your touch
But this world was just too much.
To my friends, you guys are the best
I'd rest my life in your hands," ha, that's
Messed since I'm already dead,
My head leaking blood on my bed.
"And to all those who know me
Who weren't as close to me
This letter's supposed to be
A clearing of mysteries.
I hate all you wanna-be-crowd following pansies
I hope this let's you all see
That life isn't all dandy
But strife and much suffering,
A knife, I'm the offering
And now I don't feel a thing."
Somehow I know this is all
I need to write so I fight
The urge to just write and write
Cuz writing this is almost fun
But now that my letter's done
I pick up the deadly gun
Load the bullets one by one
I put the gun to my head
My hand shakes, heavy like lead
The sand makes its way on down
Time is up, my finger's round
The trigger as I pull it now

::
::

I ended it with a fake bullet hole surrounded by a red-pen-ink-bloodsplatter.

Wow was I pretentious.

Your turn!